


A Shiny Deal

by ash_filled_words



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Folklore, M/M, blacksmith Marco, some spooky elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28679697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ash_filled_words/pseuds/ash_filled_words
Summary: A small town in a deep forest holds hidden mysteries for a newly arrived blacksmith...
Relationships: Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21
Collections: JeanMarco Gift Exchange 2020





	A Shiny Deal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caravean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caravean/gifts).



> It's been a very long time since I've written a fic, especially one this quickly. It kinda ran away from me... Thanks to the JMGE for helping me force myself out of retirement by helping with this exchange!

The fog flowing down the mountainside through the trees carried with it an eerie calm that hushed all noise in the forest. Marco - used the hustle and bustle of his former port town - felt the hairs on his neck rise. The horse pulling his wagon seemed to tense as well, ears flicking back and forth. He couldn’t hold back the sigh of relief at the sight of the lanterns in the hazy distance marking the entrance to the village that was his final destination.

Roughhewn wooden walls came into view between the thick trees, surrounding a cozy collection of houses and other buildings. A pair of hooded figures stood near one of the lanterns, gazes shifting to him as the anxious horse nickered softly at the sight of safety. Spears shifted off shoulders as they moved to approach him.

“Evening,” Marco called out. “I believe I’m expected.” He tugged the leads, bringing his horse to a halt. It danced lightly, harness jingling, eager to get inside the walls.

A gruff voice replied from one of the hoods, “You the smithy?”

Marco nodded and reached into his pack, withdrawing a rolled piece of parchment. “Letter of introduction for the town headman,” he explained, holding it up.

Hands pushed the hoods back, two young men now looked up at him. “Sorry for the lack of a welcoming party. The town tends to hunker down on foggy nights. You’re lucky you arrived before the sun set fully,” one of them said. “Head on into the town square. Someone’ll point you to where you need to go.”

With a tap of the leads to get the horse moving again, Marco made his way into the town. It didn’t take long to find the town hall, drop off his letter, and be provided with a young kid to guide him to the blacksmith shop he’d be taking over. He flipped a copper coin to the youngster as they arrived, who took off with a grin and a wave just as a burly blond man stepped through the open door.

“Marco!” came an enthusiastic shout. Shirtless, dirty, and gleaming with sweat, the man ran over to the wagon as Marco climbed down, sweeping him into a crushing bear hug.

“Rei-oof-ner!” Marco managed to squeak out. “It’s been a long time.”

“You haven’t changed a bit!” Reiner replied, loosening his arms just enough that Marco could breathe.

“You certainly got bigger.”

“Small town life has a certain kind of effect, especially helping all the local farms and this shop with the heavy work. At least with you here now, we have someone with actual skill.” Reiner left an arm looped around Marco’s shoulders and led him into the shop.

A while later, Marco’s tools and supplies had been unpacked into the shop, his personal items stored away in the small room at the back of the building, and his horse munching away on oats in the town’s stable. Marco dropped onto a stool near the cooking hearth as Reiner was prodding the fire back to life.

Dark stillness had settled over the town, fog subduing even the warm light glowing from the windows of the lively homes. The two men settled into the easy conversation of old friends as they cooked and ate a hot dinner.

As Reiner was preparing to head home, Marco suddenly remembered the comment the town guard had made. “Is it safe to go home in this fog? The guards at the gate made it seem like it had everyone spooked.”

“Something like that. It’s fine in the town, but I would not recommend wandering the forest when it rolls down,” Reiner replied. “They say strange things lurk in the dark, but even worse ones follow the fog.”

“Well, that sounds ominous. You didn’t happen to mention this in your letters.”

Reiner gave him a sheepish look and shrugged. “It’s possibly superstition, but better to be safe. Keep a lantern with you and stay in town when the fog is here. You’ll be set.” With that, Reiner grabbed a lantern hanging near the door, lit it, and stepped out into the night.

The fog swallowed him and the glow of his lantern within moments. Marco closed and latched the door, thinking Reiner was probably right that it was just some old wives tale to explain normal mishaps in deep forests like the one that surrounded this town.

Weeks flew by in a blur. Marco was surprised at just how much work there was to do in the town, but they had been without a competent smith for some time. From shoeing horses to sharpening and crafting various blades to churning out arrowheads for the town’s skilled hunters, he was never without some task to do. There wasn’t even a chance to step outside the town walls until almost two months later.

***

On a morning much like many prior, Marco rose, dressed, checked the forge, and left his shop to pick up supplies at the town square market. However, when he arrived, the mood was more solemn and agitated. A group of children stood in the midst of a crowd of adults, their sad cries and mournful sobs even reaching Marco’s ears from some distance.

“What’s going on?” he asked the nearest person.

“Seems a boy got lost in the woods. He’d been nursing some wild animal to health and when it took off, he followed. The other youngins lost sight of him and rushed back to town to let the adults know.”

Marco’s brows furrowed. “Which boy?”

“The town headman’s nephew.”

Worry stabbed in Marco’s stomach. The boy was the one who had guided him when he first arrived in town and frequently visited his shop since then, curious about Marco’s creations.

Jogging over to the group, he approached the headman and immediately asked, “How can I help?”

***

“Eli!”

“Eli, where are you?!”

Voices rang out through the thick trees. The gruff voice of one of the town guards and that of Reiner were closest to Marco. He’d occasionally catch glimpses of each of them through the rare openings to his sides.

Marco added his own, “Eli!” to the chorus as he trudged along, soft moss and undergrowth muffling his steps. The small lantern tied to his waist rattled softly along with the two weapons he’d grabbed from his shop before rushing out of town to join the search party.

It had been several hours since they’d set out, the distance between each townsperson slowly growing as they’d spread out. Marco could see the peak of the fog-wrapped mountain growing closer through the thick canopy with each step he took. Only a handful of townspeople had been willing to go in this direction, mainly because they did not think the boy would head this way. 

Some inkling, some gut feeling, told Marco that they were wrong.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, he called out the boy’s name again. As faint echoes of his own voice sounded in his ears, it suddenly dawned on him that he could no longer hear the others. Swallowing thickly, Marco dropped a hand to the hilt of the knife on his belt.

The eerie quiet settled deeper around him. Drawing in a breath to shout again, Marco jolted when the silence broke. 

“Waaahhh!”

He ran ahead, eyes darting from side to side, trying to find the source of the cry. Muffled whimpers seemed to come from every direction at once. “Eli?” Marco called gently, “Is that you?”

A giggle responded, somewhere behind him. Then another scared whimper. “Mister Marco?”

The hairs on the back of Marco’s neck rose so high, they practically pulled at his skin. The boy was close, but something else was too. He stepped past a row of trees into a small clearing, the fading light of the sun breaking through and making him squint. Across the soft ground, a ring of stones and shrooms surrounded an old, hollowed out husk of a dead tree. Eli sat curled up in the opening, crying softly into the fur of a white rabbit.

Marco walked up slowly, careful not to spook him. The creeping fear that had spread over his skin lifted, albeit only slightly, when he stepped past the ring. Eli looked up and sighed gratefully. “Mister-”

Pressing a finger to his lips, Marco shook his head. “Hey kid.” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “You sure wandered far.”

Giggles echoed in the trees in the distance again. A sing-song call of “Too late” mocked them. White fog seeped in among the trees at the back of the clearing, snaking through them, but not not moving across the open area.

Quickly removing the lantern from his waist, Marco did his best to distract the boy. He asked him about the rabbit - named Cotton - as he lit the small flame. The boy eagerly chattered away, thankfully distracted. The lantern’s weak glow seemed to push back the fog deeper into the trees.  _ At least that part is true _ , Marco thought.

Strange shapes flitted through the white, pushing closer, held back by the light and stones. A soft growl rumbled as one approached close to the huddled pair. 

The giggles rang in Marco's ears again, but this time, they echoed inside the hollowed tree. Oddly, the boy didn't react, his eyes darting along the ring of trees, nervously continuing his stories of Cotton.

A small light twinkled inside the shadows of the tree. “Flame won’t last all night,” the sing-song voice teased. “And protection has a price.” As if to drive the point home, one of the shapes pushed in closer, crossing the ring before being pushed back with a yelp.

Marco grit his teeth, his eyes glancing down at the boy before returning to the strange light. As he shook his head to refuse what he thought the fae wanted, it giggled again. “We don’t want the boy. We want the pretty.” Marco’s confusion seemed to amuse the little light further. “Silver, shiny. We will send him to help if you give it.”

At Marco’s waist, the silver knife he’d grabbed from his shop - one he was commissioned to make for the town headman - glimmered in the lantern’s light. With a quick nod, he drew it from its sheath and dropped it in the tree. Moss crawled over it instantly.

The growls around the clearing quickly went silent before ramping up in earnest. Something was barrelling through the trees. Yelps rang out, cries of pain. The fog swirled, thick and menacing. It took mere moments for silence to descend on the glade. The spaces between the trees cleared as suddenly as a smoky room opened to a windy day.

Marco stood, tucking Eli behind him as a figure appeared along the edge of the clearing. Tall and strong, Marco would have thought it a man, had it not been for the towering antlers rising from his head.

A gasp escaped Marco’s lips without his notice. Soft dirty blond hair topped a stunningly handsome face. Soft furs draped over broad shoulders and down a lean, but sturdy body. The strange figure watched him cautiously, approaching slowly. At first, Marco thought his hands were a strange shade of black, different from the glowing white of his face, but as he approached, Marco realized that the blackness was dripping onto the soft green ground.

“Deal made, deal fulfilled.”

Marco’s mouth went dry and he struggled to find words, “Th-th-thank you…”

The pleased, cocky half-smile Marco got in response made his knees go weak. Eli peeked around his legs and voiced a small “Eep” at the sight.

Stepping closer, the figure raised something up to his face and knelt down in front of Marco. “Sleep, child,” he gently commanded, blowing through the petals of a white flower at the boy. Eli’s wavering figure jolted Marco out of his reverie, catching him as he slumped towards the ground, rabbit still in his arms.

When Marco stood back up, boy heavy in his grip, the figure was uncomfortably close to his face. Heat poured into Marco’s cheeks and he quickly dropped his gaze. “Will he remember?” Marco asked.

Chuckling, the figure shook his head. “He will forget much of what he experienced after arriving in this glen, Mister Marco.”

Marco coughed, surprised. “How did you-?”

“The boy. Does it make you unhappy that I know your name?” he asked, head tilting and making him look strikingly similar to a guarded deer.

“N-no… I just, I don’t even know your name.” Marco replied, wanting to step back from this overly handsome creature.

“That’s easily fixed. I am Jean. If you can make more pretty things, I believe we may become good friends.”

_ I would hope it’d be more _ , Marco’s overactive brain added.

“Or that,” Jean replied, driving even deeper heat across Marco’s cheeks. “For now, let’s return you to the town. All other things can wait.”

Marco nodded vigorously, wondering whether he had accidentally let his thought slip.

The return trip to the town was far too quick, despite the awkward silence between the pair. Light from the lanterns ringing the walls soon came blinking into view in the distance. Jean’s steps slowed until he was behind Marco.

They stopped for a moment, Marco’s eyes shifting between the town and his saviour. “Thank you...Jean,” he murmured again.

Stepping close again, Jean pressed a soft kiss onto Marco’s temple and laid a white, now clean hand on the boy’s head, ruffling his hair as Marco had earlier. “A small blessing until we meet again, Mister Marco.”

The spirit disappeared into the shadows, leaving Marco in stunned silence. 


End file.
